


Pointless Fixtures

by typhooning



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Aside from Herc Hansen believing he is a competent chef, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Team Hot Dads, Where nothing bad ever happens ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typhooning/pseuds/typhooning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Herc led Stacker with</i> eyes closed, sailor, <i>to their bedroom, adorned in candles, rose petals, chocolate candies his sister-in-law had a hand in making and wrapping, and a soundtrack that heavily featured his sister’s favorite singers, that makes Stacker wonder if it was made for her and Tamsin.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Pointless Fixtures

**Author's Note:**

> Beyoncé's "Rocket" was the soundtrack to writing this (and also probably Herc's inner monologue while he tidied the house). I also snatched the title from that song. I highly recommend listening to it while reading. (Or watch the video before reading AND listen while reading. Don't worry about taking a break, the fic will still be here waiting for you.)
> 
> My thanks to Beyoncé's birthday for striking at the exact moment of a resurgence of the Team Hot Dads Feelings to create the perfect storm that allowed me to even conceive this idea.
> 
> Basically, this is a Beyoncé shout out. Luna Pentecost and I love you.

“Is this Beyoncé?” 

“…Yes.”

“You want to fuck me while Beyoncé is playing.”

“Not with that attitude.” 

“Herc. This isn’t my first time. Or  _our_  first time. You’re being—”

“Romantic, right?" 

Stacker raises his eyebrow and Herc huffs, dropping Stacker’s hand to throw his own in the air.

“Come on, Stacks! We’ve got the house to ourselves, for once, so I thought...We never do this schmoopy stuff, and you know I’m no good at it.”

It all had come as a surprise. It was Saturday, but Stacker had gone into the office that morning to finish filing paperwork from his sector’s most recent cockup he had been left to explain to the executive branch. He was back after two, only to see the house was impeccably clean, and the children had been whisked away by their aunts, for a day at the zoo. (That’s what the very sweet note Mako wrote Stacker on her red cherry stationary had said.) Herc was in his prized garden, picking heads of romaine, with green beans and tomatoes already set aside in a basket, and announced that he would be cooking, something he hadn’t tried in years.

Stacker had looked over the recipes laid out on the kitchen counter and thought they seemed too ambitious, but he didn’t wanted to discourage his husband.

Dinner ended up being the Italian leftovers from yesterday, but it did little to deter Herc, who had smartly asked Tamsin to prepare dessert, caramel profiteroles with a chocolate sauce and caramelized nuts, beforehand. He made a bit of mess of heating the chocolate, and Stacker had to help him out of his dress shirt—if only to drizzle more on Herc’s bare chest and defer dessert for an extra twenty minutes.

Herc had briefly disappeared while refusing to let Stacker clean any of the daunting mess left in the kitchen, to lead him, with  _eyes closed, sailor_ , to their bedroom, adorned in candles, rose petals, chocolate and caramel candies his sister-in-law had a hand in making and wrapping, and a soundtrack that heavily featured his sister’s favorite singers, that makes Stacker wonder if it was made for her and Tamsin. 

Seeing Herc pout, though, made Stacker soften. He wasn’t keen on romantic gestures like these—though he did appreciate the way Herc flourished in the little things, like taking on DIY projects or planning spontaneous outings, with or without the kids—but regardless of how he felt about this and its execution, his husband had put in the effort to surprise him, make him feel loved. He  _tried_. That was more than enough. Stacker pulled Herc back towards his side. 

“Hey, you old dag,” he murmurs into his ear. “I’m only teasing. You know you don’t need to woo me with dinner and roses to get in my pants?”

Stacker tries to ignore the song changing to D’Angelo. He’s so sure Luna put this together.

Herc’s still pouting, though. “I just wanted to do something nice. For today.”

Pause. “Which is, what?”

“Oh fuck, Stacks…” Herc groans, but leans more against his husband, who wrapped an arm around him for good measure. “It’s the fifth of September. Did you forget?”

Stacker’s eyebrows shoot up because, yes, he absolutely did.

“Already? I thought Labor Day wasn’t until next week—”

Herc lifts his head to look at Stacker. “You’ve been so busy. I thought it’d be nice to have the kids away so we could celebrate.”

“How long are they gone?” Stacker asks.

“All weekend…Tam promised not to let them adopt any pets.”

That makes Stacker smile. Chuck and Mako have been begging for a dog for ages and now that Ayoka and Anita were two, they've added their own  _DOGGY! DOGGY!_ to the choruses of pleading whenever they saw adverts for the Humane Society.

“Still, it’s not like you to forget,” Herc decides, matching Stacker’s grin before kissing him. “What do they have you doing at work, anyway?”

“Classified.”

Herc rolls his eyes, but still laughs with his husband before clearing his throat. “So. Eleven years ago, today, I was stationed in Diego Garcia with six other from the Royal Air Force to work with the Yanks. I liked everyone under my command, but there was only one man who even mildly enjoyed my joke about the giraffe passing out at the bar.”

“You can’t leave this  _lyin’_  here,” Stacker says with the amusement and patience of a man who has heard this joke—and story—a million times over.

Herc’s grin widens. “And the bloke says, ‘that’s no lion, it’s a giraffe!’”

“It’s a terrible joke, but you told it so well.”

Herc shakes his head, then goes to nuzzle Stacker’s neck. “No, I didn’t. We were drunk on toilet hooch and I knew you wanted to impress your older, very  _handsome_  officer.”

“And did I, Captain Hansen?” Stacker purrs, pulling them flush against each other. He ran his hands down Herc’s sides, letting them rest low on his still naked back.

“Mmm,” Herc responds. The hands teasing at the waistband of his trousers are warm. “Probably as much as I did with that joke,  _Major_  Pentecost.”

Stacker opens his mouth to correct his old title, but Herc lifts his head and catches his lips too quickly.

As they’re falling asleep, Stacker tells Herc he’s good at and absolutely allowed to do the schmoopy stuff again, as long as he stays out of the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> come [talk](http://jerkuleshansen.tumblr.com) to me on tumblr about your hot dad or beyoncé feelings


End file.
